


Sunrise

by Bullfinch



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Double Penetration, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Toys, Trans Fenris, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 10:55:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9120598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bullfinch/pseuds/Bullfinch
Summary: Fenris wakes up horny next to Hawke. PWP.





	

Fenris isn’t sure what he was dreaming of but when he wakes his clit feels swollen between his legs, and the tops of his thighs are wet.

He flips over, wrapping an arm under his pillow, burying his face in it. His other hand has already slipped to the juncture of his thighs—out of curiosity, of course, to see if he really is—

Wet. Very wet. His knees splay, and he runs a finger up and down his slit, parting his slick folds. And his clit—engorged and sensitive, making him inhale sharply when he glides over it.

He’ll need to take care of that. Should he…he peers to his left, where Hawke is fast asleep, one powerful arm draped across his chest. It would be rude to wake him, surely…

Fenris slips out of bed and tiptoes to the bureau, rummaging in the bottom drawer. A small selection available, and he chooses one of the more modest toys—doesn’t want to spoil himself, not that he _plans_ to wake up Hawke, but it might happen by pure chance, and when it does he would like to be left breathless.

He crawls back into bed, lying on his back and spreading himself. The tip of the toy glides smoothly over his vulva; but he doesn’t penetrate himself yet. Instead he shifts, holding the shaft lengthwise so that it can split his folds. Fenris lets out a contented sigh, grinding against it, his hips rolling minutely under the white silk sheets. The pressure is nice, warm throbs of pleasure swelling from his clit to somewhere deeper.

He can’t resist for long. Spreading himself once more, he positions the toy at his entrance and begins to press it into him.

It slips inside easily, although he certainly feels his entrance stretching around it. Deeper now—the shaft filling his cunt, and he takes long, slow breaths, luxuriating in the sensation of its hard surface spreading his inner walls. At last it finishes its exquisite advance, not quite bottoming out, but the wide base is flat against his vulva.

Fenris smiles at the ceiling and draws it out halfway, then slides it in again.

He pumps it in and out for a few moments, rubbing his clit with his other hand. The wet friction builds steadily, his cunt tightening around the toy—he tilts it into that rough spot deep inside him and is rewarded with an immediate bloom of pleasure, his hips lifting off the bed. Fenris bites his lip, stroking that spot with short, quick thrusts, strumming his clit—

He flips on his side, his forehead touching Hawke’s shoulder.

His breaths come a little quicker now, the toy once more hilted inside him; he rocks it gently, focusing on his clit, dragging a finger over the tip only to gasp at the shock of sensation. He’s a little warm under the sheet but leaves it for now, pressing closer to Hawke.

A sleepy groan. “Mm. Fenris?”

Fenris kisses his arm. “H—Hawke.”

Shifting. Hawke rolls over and props himself up on an elbow; Fenris looks up, sure he’s flushed pink with the heat and the way his clit pulses with pleasure each time he rolls it beneath the pad of his finger.

Hawke blinks, but his eyes widen when he figures out what’s going on beneath the sheet. _“Fenris,”_ he says again, rougher this time, and leans down for a kiss.

It’s clumsy—he’s just woken up, they both have, but Fenris returns it eagerly, their lips parting into each other, and as soon as Hawke grasps his waist he arches.

“Couldn’t wait for me, could you?” Hawke murmurs, smiling.

Fenris shakes his head and ducks forward to kiss Hawke’s bare chest. Hawke strokes his hair—

—traces the shell of his ear, and Fenris gasps and shudders, squeezing his thighs together. Hawke chuckles, his hand sliding down to grip Fenris’s ass. This time when he leans down he draws the tip of Fenris’s ear between his lips and sucks gently.

Fenris latches on to Hawke’s arm, fingers digging in (that might be painful—he relaxes the grip with effort). Hawke’s tongue traces down the shell of his ear, the barest scrape of teeth on skin, and he hilts the toy in him and wishes it could go deeper. Hawke drifts down to his earlobe, his lips closing over it for a teasing second before his tongue trails up Fenris’s sensitive neck.

It’s too much. Fenris flips on his back, splaying his legs beneath the sheet.

Hawke kisses his neck, sucking hard enough to leave bruises (Isabela will make fun of him for that later but right now he simply can’t bring himself to care). One enormous hand pushes the sheet down and grasps his breast—firmly, and Fenris arches into the grip, moaning a little as Hawke thumbs his dark nipple. The other drawn a moment later into Hawke’s mouth, circled with an agile tongue. Fenris runs fingers through Hawke’s hair, holding him where he lavishes Fenris’s nipple; still he rubs his clit, the toy sliding out of him just a little. Hawke gropes his breast roughly, massaging the tender flesh and tugging at the nipple, eliciting a sensation that borders on pain but doesn’t strike Fenris that way—only makes him moan louder and tighten his cunt around the toy, dull pulses of pleasure welling in his lower belly. Then Hawke’s hand disappears from his breast, reaching lower, tracing the joint of his hip. Fenris smiles. Soon he’ll find—

The questing hand making its way between his thighs only to discover not the smooth, plush lips of Fenris’s cunt but the hard base of the toy sticking out of them. Hawke freezes a moment; then he props himself up. “You’ve got something in you already.”

His voice is harsh with arousal, his eyes hard with hunger. Fenris nods, a little breathless.

Hawke grasps the base of the toy and shoves it back into him.

Fenris cries out. It still doesn’t reach as deep as he’d like, but with someone else manipulating it the sensation is much more intense. He grabs Hawke’s arm, fingers digging into firm muscle. “Fuck me, fuck me—“

He whines as Hawke’s teeth scrape again down his neck, catching at the thin skin. “If that’s what you want.”

“Yes, I want it, please—“

It isn’t hard, with how wet he is, for Hawke to thrust the toy in and out of him, the base slapping against his vulva. Fenris bites his lip, tilting his head back to expose his throat to Hawke’s mouth. The fast fucking, the friction at his entrance are making his thighs start to shake. His free hand grasps his breast and squeezes hard, with the same grip he uses to wield greatswords. But then— _“Venhedis,”_ he hisses, and closes his thighs, trapping Hawke and the toy right where they are. Too close. He doesn’t want to come just yet.

The aggressive marking of his neck stops, and Hawke rises so he can see Fenris. “Everything all right?”

“Yes.” Fenris reaches up and strokes Hawke’s face, his shoulder. Still warm with sleep.

Hawke smiles down at him. “I love you.”

“Mm.” Fenris’s fingers trace Hawke’s collarbone and then drift lower, parting the fine, dark curls of hair there. “Get on your back.”

But he doesn’t give Hawke a chance to respond, just flattens a palm on his chest and shoves. Hawke makes a noise of surprise as he’s flipped over and thrown to the bed, Fenris moving quick as lightning, climbing on top of him and straddling his broad hips, the toy discarded among the sheets. Hawke tries to prop himself up on an elbow. “Do you—“

But Fenris shoves him firmly back onto the bed, leaning forward, using his weight to pin Hawke to the sheets. He lines himself up, Hawke’s tip at his entrance—thinks of teasing him and immediately discards the idea, he needs this, he needs Hawke in him _now—_

He slides down.

Oh. Hawke is thick. Fenris draws in a shuddering breath. Thicker than the toy. He knew that, of course. For a moment he just stays there, braced against Hawke’s chest, the pulses of pleasure in his stretched cunt threatening to tip over into an orgasm even though he’s barely brushing his clit (though he still is, can’t bring himself to resist). Full. He’s _full,_ his lips wrapped snug around the base of Hawke’s shaft.

“Fenris?” Hawke says weakly.

Fenris blinks, half-dazed. “Hm?”

“You feel amazing.” Hawke reaches up and cups his face.

Fenris leans down and kisses him.

Ardently, hungrily, as he splays his legs and rolls just a bit on Hawke’s cock—can’t manage much at this angle, but it’s enough, each short thrust hitting him deep. Hawke groans into his mouth and grabs his ass with calloused hands, palming and groping as he bounces. It’s good—Fenris likes this, likes to be manhandled. And to return the favor. He squeezes the firm muscle of Hawke’s chest. “Do you want more?” he murmurs, his lips brushing Hawke’s.

“Yes,” comes the gasped reply.

So Fenris pushes himself back upright and rises until he’s nearly empty again, the head of Hawke’s cock still captured just inside his entrance; then he plummets down, filling himself all at once.

The sensation is almost too much, and he moans, his thighs tensing as he rolls his hips reflexively. But it also isn’t enough, and he plants a hand on Hawke’s breastbone for support and rises to impale himself again. No more hesitancy—he fucks himself on Hawke’s shaft hard and fast, digging at the base of his clit with his fingertips, rubbing the slick hood over the swollen nub. Hawke’s back arches, his chest rising under Fenris’s palm, and he rubs Fenris’s thighs with a breathy “oh, fuck, Maker, fuck me…”

Fenris laughs, rolling his hips. “I’m afraid I— _mm_ —I’m not going to last very long.”

Hawke runs a hand up Fenris’s stomach, thumbs his nipple. “You know how much I love seeing you come.”

Fine then. Fenris leans back, bracing his hand on the bed, displaying himself for Hawke as he impales himself, Hawke’s cock spearing him deep with every rise and fall. _“Ah—_ Hawke—“ He grinds his fingers into his clit—so _sensitive_ ever since he woke up this morning, his inner walls electric with pleasure as Hawke’s shaft plows into him. “I’m—I’m going to—“

The orgasm hits him, his cunt surging with pleasure as it clenches tight. Fenris tips his head back and moans, circling his clit to milk the sensation, still riding Hawke with little short thrusts while his toes curl in the sheets. Rough hands grip his thighs, squeezing them hard, and Fenris whimpers a little and rocks his hips. Hawke knows how much he loves being manhandled.

He doesn’t wait for the aftershocks to fade before he leans forward again, bracing himself on Hawke’s chest to rise up—gasping as his cunt drags over the thick shaft inside him, biting back a whine as it pops free.

“Fenris.” Gentle fingers pushing his hair back. “That was amazing.”

Fenris doesn’t respond, only crawls back and lies on his belly. Hawke’s cock is shining with his own wetness, red and swollen with arousal; Fenris wastes no time taking it into his mouth.

He tastes his cunt on Hawke’s foreskin, but only for a moment before he sinks down, determined—dragging himself lower, pushing the head of Hawke’s cock into his throat. Too much too fast, and he coughs immediately but won’t withdraw. He needs this. Needs Hawke inside him as deep as possible. A hissed-out _“oh, fuck, Fenris”_ and Hawke catches his hand, grips it.

Fenris finds his rhythm soon enough, one that satisfies but doesn’t choke him quite so much. He bobs firmly, using his throat to pleasure Hawke, coming back up just enough to take a breath—but never letting Hawke slip from his mouth. Now and then it isn’t enough and he presses himself all the way down, until he meets the very root of Hawke’s shaft and his throat convulses as he coughs, thick saliva bursting out from his stretched lips. _“Fuck.”_ Breathy and strained. “Fuck, Fenris, that’s tight.”

Fenris does not pause—continues to take from Hawke what he desires, moving faster now and more candidly, fucking his own throat on Hawke’s shaft. To either side of him Hawke’s thighs shiver, his heels drawing up as he squirms on the bed. The taste of salt—close now. Fenris forces himself all the way down once more and sucks, hollowing his cheeks. Too much again; his lips tremble and his throat tightens as he gags, saliva spilling out of his mouth, but he stays there, wrapping both arms around Hawke’s legs to anchor him. His brow knits with effort and his eyes water, tears gathering as he looks up to meet Hawke’s gaze.

Only for a second before Hawke gasps out “Fenris, I’m coming,” and tenses.

Fenris releases himself, rising up so Hawke can fuck into his mouth—even pop into his throat when he leans forward a little. He swallows the seed that spurts out onto his tongue, laving the underside of Hawke’s shaft. Hawke captures Fenris’s hand, drags it up his stomach and presses it to his chest above his heart; Fenris feels his deep, even breaths, squeezes the firm muscle beneath his palm.

Eventually he falls still and Fenris crawls up and drapes himself over Hawke, head resting on his shoulder. Hawke strokes his hair, wraps an arm around his back. “That was amazing.”

“Mm.” Fenris tilts his hips, his clit dragging over Hawke’s leg.

Hawke chuckles. “Are you _really_ still up for more?”

“Perhaps,” Fenris mumbles into his skin.

“Maker. What did you dream about last night that got you so…”

“Aroused?” Fenris kisses Hawke’s neck, grinding against his thigh. “To be honest, I haven’t the faintest idea. Would _you_ like to keep going? If you’re tired—”

“Not at all.” Hawke’s fingers run down his spine, dip into the cleft of his ass, and find his hole.

 _“Mm.”_ Fenris kisses Hawke again, at his shoulder and collarbone. “Yes, please…”

Hawke strokes the back of his neck with one hand and with the other massages his hole, Fenris grinding into his hip and nipping at the thin skin at his throat. There’ll be marks there before they’re finished. He pushes himself back against Hawke’s finger, feels it just begin to breach him. _“Yes,”_ he hisses.

“Let me kiss you,” Hawke murmurs.

Fenris rises and their lips meet, clumsy with the intensity of their mutual desire—each too eager, taking a moment to find their rhythm. “Fuck,” Hawke breathes into Fenris’s mouth, and curls his finger—the tip just barely slipping inside him, and Fenris takes in a shuddering breath. His hands cup Hawke’s broad shoulders, hips rolling now of their own accord. Soft kisses trail over his cheek, the corner of his jaw...

Then Hawke sucks gently at his earlobe and Fenris tenses. “Nnh—“

Hawke’s voice is low and harsh. “Liked that, did you?”

“Nn—please—please—“ Insensible, he knows, but he _needs_ to be touched and teased and fucked and it’s overwhelming his coherence.

Hawke grips Fenris’s hair and tilts his head, teeth scraping over the shell of his ear before he takes the tip into his mouth. The shot of heat to Fenris’s groin is immediate, his legs splaying open reflexively. More deliberate now, Hawke tracing the delicate helix with the tip of his tongue, and Fenris can’t hold back a moan, shamelessly humping Hawke’s hip now. But still only the pad of one fingertip is inside him, and he needs _more—_

“Get up on your knees,” Hawke says roughly.

Fenris obeys as Hawke slides out from under him, rests his cheek on the bedand arches his back. A shivering thrill runs through him at what will be done to him next—he likes that, likes not knowing, instead simply allowing himself to be moved and stimulated and penetrated at Hawke’s whim.

Then Hawke leans down and kisses him on the cheek. “I love you very much.”

Not quite what he expected. He chuckles. “And I love you.”

Then Hawke disappears, and a moment later there’s something nudging at his entrance—the toy sliding into him, not as satisfying as Hawke was but he still likes being filled. Then a hand on his ass, spreading him, and Hawke’s tongue at his hole.

“Mm—“ He presses his forehead into the sheets. “Yes—please—“

Hawke is purposeful and gives no quarter; only a few warm, wet licks before the tip of his tongue is pressing inside, demanding Fenris open up for him. Fenris rocks back into Hawke’s mouth and rubs his clit, a mild, frustrated buzz at the edge of his mind; he needs _more,_ can only hope that Hawke is preparing his ass to be filled. Perhaps only with the toy—taking Hawke’s cock is somewhat more of an ordeal and requires time. But he needs _something_ inside him. Hawke’s tongue laps at him, massaging the ring of muscle. Fenris grabs the base of the toy and starts thrusting, whining a little when it hits that spot—

Hawke withdraws. “Need to be fucked, is that it?”

“Yes, please, Hawke—“ He spears himself on the toy, shoving his whole body back onto it, but it simply isn’t thick enough to satisfy him. But surely Hawke will get the idea from his display. “Please fuck me.”

Hawke pulls the toy out. Fenris groans in disappointment and spreads his cunt, hoping to feel Hawke plunging into him—

But instead there’s a pressure at his hole. The toy, slick with his own wetness, slides inside him. He certainly feels it more there than in his cunt, and he remains still, allowing it to penetrate him until he feels the base against his ass. “That’s—that’s deep,” he gasps.

Hawke rubs Fenris’s cunt. “Thought you wanted to be fucked,” he says.

“Yes, yes, I want to—“

A pair of fingers spread his labia. Fenris expects one of them to delve inside him but instead Hawke’s hard cock presses against his entrance and then pops past all at once, spreading his cunt as it advances.

Fenris feels like he’s being split in two. He breathes shallowly, the tip of one finger circling his clit. Both his holes feel stretched beyond their limits. Hawke must have been stroking himself while he prepared Fenris’s ass. He starts to pull out, leaving just the head of his cock inside Fenris. “Fuck, you’re tight with that toy in you.”

Fenris pushes back against him—slowly, opening up his cunt around Hawke’s shaft. A mindless moan rises out of him.

“You want to get fucked?”

Fenris nods, his eyes drifting shut. He’s _full._

“Fine.”

Hawke grabs his hips and fucks him.

No teasing, no coy buildup or allowance for Fenris to adjust to the feeling. He’s taken hard and fast, Hawke pulling him back with each thrust, fingers digging into his hips. It _is_ too much at first, with how stretched he is, but Hawke expects him to take it—no, not really; rather, Fenris _wants_ to take it and Hawke is meeting him there. Fenris lets his head hang, collapsing to an elbow. The hard grip digs into him, enough to bruise, he’s sure. Each slap of Hawke’s hips against his ass jars his whole body. He reaches back, finds his clit, presses at the base to feel the jolt of pleasure that goes straight to where Hawke hits him _deep,_ deep—

A calloused hand running up his back, gentle now as ever. Fenris rises, leans into it. “Hawke,” he breathes.

Stroking the back of his neck now, playing with his hair. “You’re amazing,” Hawke murmurs.

Fenris smiles, a little delirious. “I love you.”

“Ready for more?”

“Yes.”

The hand flattens over his shoulderblades, pushing down, so Fenris follows, his cheek pressing into the sheets. The grip on his hip pulls, and he knows what that means, arches his back to present himself better. Hawke leans over him, weight shifting onto the hand over his shoulderblades. No escape. He’s pinned.

Hawke drives into him, not quite so fast but harder, drawing guttural sounds out of Fenris’s throat. He rubs his clit with fervor—sensitive now with how aroused he is, sparks of electric pleasure making his cunt tighten and his ass clench around the toy. _“Fuck.”_ Hawke’s voice is grinding. “I can feel that. You squeezing my cock.”

“Yes—“ Fenris whines. “Please— _nnh—_ Hawke—“

“Going to come in you,” he breathes. “Would you like that?”

“Yes, please— _ahh—_ please come in me—“

Hawke fucks him recklessly, no rhythm to it anymore but the frenzy of lust, Fenris crying out with each thrust. Hawke is taking pleasure from him, using Fenris’s body for his own satisfaction. Fenris wishes he could see it, Hawke’s muscular form bent over him, cock plunging into his stretched cunt. He strokes his clit lightly, holding himself on the knife’s-edge of climax, his thighs tense. He would be squirming but for the firm hand on his back keeping him pinned to the bed. _No escape,_ he thinks again.

It tips him over, and he gasps, “Hawke, I’m coming,” as the orgasm takes him.

His toes curl, feet slapping down on the sheets as he fucks back against Hawke—who obliges him, plunging into him even faster with a snarled-out curse. Then his rhythm stutters and Fenris lets out a long, broken moan, his cunt contracting, milking Hawke’s shaft as it fills him with seed. The toy in his ass begins to slide out, but Hawke’s hips slam into him again and the toy sinks right back where it belongs. Fenris strums his clit, pleading incoherently into the sheets as Hawke fucks him straight through the climax.

He can’t really tell when it ends, each roll of his fingers sending another pulse of pleasure through his clenching cunt. Hawke leans over him, sweaty skin pressed against his own, and kisses his neck and shoulders. One rough hand palms and squeezes his breast. At last he pulls out, and Fenris dips his fingers down to feel how open he is, how wet.

Then the toy in his ass start to slip out again, and he gasps. “It’s—it’s coming out,“ feels the smooth surface sliding past his hole until finally it falls free. He moans again, fingering his relaxed hole.

“Fuck. Fenris.”

Fenris looks over his shoulder.

Hawke is kneeling on the bed, flushed and a little breathless. _“Fuck.”_

Fenris smiles. “Indeed.”

Hawke shakes his head, faintly dazed. “Fuck. I’m going to—I’ll go clean up.”

“Mm. And then some tea, perhaps.”

A defeated laugh. “Right, then.”

While he’s in the washroom Fenris gets to his feet and totters to the bureau on shaky legs, picks out a glass plug—puts it back and chooses a larger one. First he dips it into his cunt, making sure to lubricate it well, and then teases his hole—perhaps a little longer than necessary but he waits until he hears the washroom door open behind him and then works it in, biting his lip to stifle a moan as the swell of it pops inside his ass. Then he straightens, exhaling. “Let me dress, then we can go to the kitchens.”

Hawke wraps an arm around his waist when they head downstairs—sends Bodahn out for some shopping (Fenris winces a little at what the steward may have heard earlier, but he’s never been anything but courteous and professional). Then he puts the kettle on while Fenris sits and plucks at the bunch of grapes on the kitchen table. He finds that if he angles his hips just right, he can catch the edge of the plug on the chair and rock it inside him, pressing his cunt against the hard wood at the same time. He’s subtle about it at first, letting Hawke pour the tea and slide the cup and saucer across the table; but it feels too good, and as he drinks he finds himself rocking more and faster until he’s grinding against the chair and can’t stop even when Hawke is gazing straight at him with those deep brown eyes, dark and cool. He comes around the table and sits next to Fenris, leaning in to kiss his ear and rest a hand on his stomach. “Still up for more?” he murmurs.

Fenris nods. “Y—yes.”

Then he gasps as Hawke’s tongue traces the fine helix of his ear, captures the tip and sucks it—gasps again when the hand on his stomach delves without ceremony into his trousers and two fingers enter him to the knuckle. Hawke strokes his inner walls right there at the table, teasing the tip of his ear, swirling his tongue around it. Fenris spreads his legs so Hawke can fuck him better, feels his face flushing, his spread-open hole squeezing around the neck of the plug.

“I’m going to fuck your ass,” Hawke says roughly.

Fenris can only nod.

He comes with a thick cock hilted in his ass and three of Hawke’s fingers stuffed in his cunt. By that point Hawke has tired of Fenris’s squirming and has one of Fenris’s legs hiked up over his shoulder, the other pinned beneath his own leg so he can fuck as hard and fast as he wants to and Fenris won’t be able to interrupt him. Fenris discovers he finds the position quite arousing and comes sooner than he meant to; but Hawke doesn’t seem to mind, continuing to fuck him while his ass clenches and his hips buck wildly—as best they can, in his restrained position. Then Hawke comes in him again and lets him go, and they both slump to the bed. Finished for good this time, Fenris senses.

Hawke gathers Fenris up and holds him close, kissing his neck and breasts. Fenris smiles absently at the ceiling, content as he’s ever been. Hawke’s already come in all of his holes and they haven’t even had breakfast yet.

“I think I need a nap,” Hawke mumbles.

Fenris snorts. “It’s hardly been an hour since you woke.”

“You tired me out. Maker.”

“Hm. Perhaps you simply need more practice.”

Hawke giggles. “I like the sound of that.”

“But not now. I believe our tea is getting cold.”

“Shit. The tea.” Hawke pushes himself upright. “Where’s my clothes?”

Fenris goes to find them, and his own—but not before leaning in to give Hawke one last, lingering kiss.

 


End file.
